Reality\ytilaeR

My sense of reality is so warped.
Much like anyone in...well, the world.

My dopplganger went from looking like me, to looking like my sister.
I know this is more than likely because we're twins, but Laura and I are polar opposites.
Anyways, Mags went from having black short hair to long blonde hair.
From wearing baggy shirts and her grandma's old clothes, to tight jeans and plaid.
Ah, The crackhead hipster look.
When I saw the picture, I felt somewhat shattered.
I then realized once again, that people change. They're allowed to.
Not only was the illusion I held unfair, but also completely distorted and non-existant.
Maybe even creepy. I dont know.
Pointless. All I can think of right now.
The fact I'm even feeling upset or writting about this is just juvenille.
I've been beaten and neglected, have starved and been shattered, yet I'm bitching about losing a memory.
Maybe it's all the tip of the iceburg. There's probably a whole other whack of nutjob-psychoanalysis my councellor must be getting ready to have a field day over. Any day now..

I've often felt like the life and being I am isnt really the true self.
But then again, being a practicing buddhist, I guess there really is no 'self' to speak of.
I basically created an entire idea/character out of another fictional character.
Kind of like the day you find out Santa isnt real.
It's not when your parents tell you- they like to think they broke it to you in some twisted, mildly sadistic approach- but you already knew.
You got it. Everything added up.
Everything became the REAL truth, and not the truth you've set yourself up to believe.
It was there in plain sight, and all you could do was count the number of years till Christmas just became another day.
I felt as if I had lost another sister.
A comrad.
But then I realized, I never had one to begin with.
It was all a coping mechanism to feel less lonely.
To feel that maybe, out there, someone knew exactly what all the crazy shit going through my head was about, and wasnt afraid.
But that's where it got messy.
It was all in my head.

In the end, we can only be the thing we woke up to.

Working today doing the exact same thing I've been doing for five years now.
Only this time, it's no sweat.
There's no importance in anything really. Everything is sacred, yet nothing is.
As insignificant as my first real kiss, or the first time I drove a car by myself, or got stoned- these moments dont define me.
No moment defines me. Because they're all in the past. Never to come back.

Goodbye Mags. I'll never forget you.
Rock on. Wherever you are.

Mindless Ramble 3

Any time I've been traumatized- usually either from something my crack whore ex girlfriend did or something awful in the hands of a man on the street, I'd retreat back to wherever I was sleeping and just curl up for a good three hours.
Time sands still around these circumstances.
When someone I love or was close to dies, life goes by slower than tar.
Sure, one minute it was Thursday and then suddenly, it's Monday; but inside, you're still living Thursday.
It takes even longer to get your life back up to speed.
Some people just permanently remain living the day someone died.

Your body gets older.
You either grow or shrink.
Cut, dye, or grow your hair....
The days gone past just pile up like the countless sympathy emails from people who never really did give a damn about you or know your deceased.
But inside, you're still the age, mindset, and level of vulnerability you were when that loved one fell from the Earth.
We were all too young.

Not finished

The Giant Boats of Recovery
Sailed along the stormy waters of fear
No land in sight
No port was near
The Land of Self Discovery
Promising refuge forever
For our journeys alone
We set sail together

Princess

Hey, Workin Lady
Hows the night treatin your thighs?
Bet you've tricked a million guys
Still no paycheque
Still no rent
But all your thrusting and fisting's well spent.
Standin on your corner at half past three-
Cause we aint rock stars and weed aint free.

Workin in the sunshine
Workin in the rain
Sleepin in the line on Hastings and Main
Watchin for China
Watchin for Ice
Watchin for herpes
and vaginal lice
There's a line of denyal between you and me-
Cause we aint rock stars, and weed aint free.

I just sit here and beg
While you sell your throat
I'll respect you forever
But I'm stealing your coat
Life fucking sucks, I'll have to agree
Cause we aint rock stars and weed aint free.

Blue chocolate dream

Had a dream last night.
I was working in a Starbucks. Not sure which one it was..Maybe a ficticious one I keep visiting in my head.
Anyways, all the girls I worked with had no idea what they were doing, but really didnt care. They had rich parents. Their mothers came in and suggested we play a game.
This game involved using some kind of blue chocolate I had never heard of before.
They rolled their eyes and told me to prepare the chocolate.
Apparently, I have to grind this chocolate with a razor.
I was doing an Ok job, but kept spilling a few at a time. They were slippery little buggers!
Anyways, this one woman insulted me, stating I was just some dirty young student, and made a comment I ate bugs.

This dream was probably from my subconscience hatred for anything bourgouise-class related or whatnot.
Maybe some of my own self esteem issues regarding finances as well.

DREAM: Nov. 25, 2010
WAKE UP: 8:00 AM

Guerrela Journalism

Since my prerequirements dont include an English degree in Highschool or anything beyond that, I've decided to continue exploiting the english language for my own evil deeds through mass zine-printage.

My work is mad at me and I may be fired. I was going to quit this week anyways, but I'm guessing they got wind of that and have decided to beat me to getting the last nail in the coffin.

I dont understand why we need certain 'degrees' to prove to the world we can do something.
(Okay, yes I do. To prevent people like my sister, whom probably couldnt even spell 'journalism' properly to get her hands on litterary material read by the masses.)

I've been wanting to get out of the Mcjob circuit for a while now, but fail to meet the expectations of most employers.
In a world where having a degree wont necessarily get anyone a good job, my only hope is to either find a trade willing to pick up an uneducated bumpkin like myself, or be doomed to work for $9.00 for the rest of my life.
Alright, I'm not a bum.
I'm a bored, overeducated-understimulated Film School graduate.
I have no idea where I'm headed in life, but feel no want to pursue a career in the film industry.
Personally, I dont think you really need talent anymore; judging by the way most Hollywood films are going these days...

Well, I say: "Fuck Certification and Establishment!"
Yes.
I dont give two fucks about who says I can or cannot write a coherient sentence.
(For Irony's sake, I've probably spelt at least two things wrong in that last paragraph).
I will continue to write, because I enjoy doing it!

Memory ramble 2

I'm told I shouldnt wonder what the world would have been like if my mother had stayed sober while I was growing up- but I cant help it.
For the first six years I grew up, she drank heavily, but never touched heroin.
It wasnt like one day, she just dissappeared and came back as this angry, disoriented slob of a human being- she's always been that. It just gradually got more frequent.
Soon, I found myself doing my own laundry, cooking my siblings' dinner, paying for my own junk food (my dad took care of the main staples, although would never let us forget that we were 'costing him money'.
It seemed like we were being beaten and yelled at for everything.
I mean, there were good times..
They were just usually out of guilt, or had some kind of string attatched.
FOR EXAMPLE: If we got icecream or other junk = Either my mom will eat it and blame us for why she'd get fat, or we had to clean the house once we returned.
I remember getting a lecture for making noise in the morning for when we had to go to school.
UH, LADY, your kids are getting up in the morning to go to school.
They're making their own breakfast, gathering their own schoolwork, dressing themselves, and going off to a building ran by a complete psycho. DEAL WITH IT.
We were made to feel guilty about wanting to have friends over, or to go to other people's houses.
My parents stated they 'didnt want to take care of other people's children', although I have a sneaking suspicion this was due to embaressment they felt upon themselves.

Later in life, it esculated to pure violence. Often with either my mother or brother going completely insane (there was usually a substance to blame), beating the living shit out of whoever was there, then leaving everyone else to pick up the pieces.
This prompted everyone to get involved with alcohol, drugs; and to run away from home.

As a young woman, I'm still in the process of trying to figure out everything in life without a Mom.
I mean, she's still alive, but she's increadibly burnt out and senile.
I believe what everyone carries is called a 'pain-body'. Ekhart Tolle wrote about it.
Buddhism helps me quite a bit as well.

My Mother is a deeply mentally disturbed woman.
I'm not so sure if I do love her, but this Christmas, I gotta see all of them again.
Lets just hope the pain-body doesnt take over and turn me into that snivelling little girl in the corner again.